


Checking In

by waywardbard



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-23
Updated: 2011-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-23 15:00:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardbard/pseuds/waywardbard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little drabble that sorta jumped out of my head while I was thinking about past companions and possible future storylines to write. 860 words. Light DW s4-5 and SJA s4 spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Checking In

There was a certain amount of safety in having a new face. For one thing, it was the best disguise a man could ask for when it came to peeking in on the people he loved.

Though in all honesty, the Doctor tried to avoid going back to see his previous companions. Sometimes it was unavoidable, though, like the case had been with Sarah Jane. Other times he'd succumbed to his own loneliness and peered through windows or from around corners, ashamed and miserable like some daft grown-up Peter Pan. Not the Robin Williams one, mind, though that movie was brilliant. No, more that he knew he could never dare ask for them to come back, or to steal them away early. All life grew old, withered, and died; but in the TARDIS, hurtling through the Vortex at top speed, running until he ran out of breath and then running a little longer, he sometimes wondered if he was ever truly aging anymore.

If it weren't for the TARDIS's databanks, he would have forgotten how old he was centuries years ago.

A man suddenly appeared at his left elbow, his posture jumpy like a live wire as his dark eyes scanned the little cribs on the other side of the glass. The Doctor put on a smile as he looked sideways at him.

"Which one's yours?"

It took a moment for the man to answer, partly for lack of one and partly because he was unable to find his own voice.

"Fifth to the left, second row," he answered at last, pride swelling in his voice. The Doctor found the baby and smiled warmly. He'd figured as much when he first scanned the nameplates. Not just because of the surname, but because of the ginger hair. It stood out like a shock of fire from underneath the little pink bonnet. The Doctor felt immediate fondness for the child, though he knew he would never know her personally. It would be too risky to visit her, to watch her grow up with her parents. Traveling meant sharing stories, meant risking his rediscovery, and considering the close call not-so-long-ago in his personal timeline, he refused to take that chance.

"What's her name?"

"Jenny," the man answered. The hairs on the back of the Doctor's neck stood on end as the memories associated with the name rushed to the surface of his memory. Had she chosen the name because a small part of her remembered still?

"Jenny Noble-Temple," The Doctor repeated, testing the letters out. "Lovely name. She's beautiful."

Shaun Temple beamed at the compliment, but his eyes remained glued to his daughter where she rested. The Doctor moved his eyes to her sleeping form as well, the story of Jenny Noble-Temple unfolding in his mind: she would grow up happy and well-loved by her parents, the oldest of two sisters (Martha and Rose) and a brother (John, who preferred to be called Jack and was quite the handful). Her interest in traveling would send her off into the world after getting her A-levels, first to Spain, and then onward. She would later meet a photographer and marry, the two of them living happily together with twins, a boy and a girl, that carried their mother and grandmother's ginger gene. He could trace their lineage outward into the stars, to a great-great-grandson who would one day start the largest trader's coalition in that planetary system, and a fourth cousin who would one day be the wife of Crown Prince Ansem of New Astrios.

It would be so easy to slip in and find any one of them, to pluck them out of space-time and show them the mysteries of the universe, but he held back the urge. After all, it wasn't them he truly wanted or missed; they would never be her.

"Don't let Sylvia try and convince her not to learn Spanish," he muttered, not even realizing what he was saying until Shaun turned to look at him, his brows arched slightly.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing, nevermind," The Doctor replied, waving his hand dismissively at the question. "I'd best be off." Amy and Rory would be wondering where he was if he didn't hurry back. "Congratulations. Send Donna my love."

He'd already started walking briskly down the hall when Shaun called out to him. "Oi! Who are you?"

"Nobody important," The Doctor replied, turning long enough to give the confused man a faint smile. "Just an old friend."

Later while Rory was off in the TARDIS's wardrobe looking for something other than his wedding tuxedo, Amy would find him sulking in an empty room off the main corridor and hold his hand, her knee pressed against his as she tried to coax the story of the side-trip out of him, but he wouldn't answer. It was better that she not know what happened to the last ginger that had traveled with him. He never much liked talking about his past anyway, and he could never run far enough away from it.


End file.
